Dead Roses
by TheArc5
Summary: Rose learns what it means to be alone.  A vision of Rose's life in the AU. R&R!


The Defender of Earth, you called me.

You were proud, then.

I wonder what you would be if you could see me now. With you, all those years ago, I understood so little. I didn't even know how ignorant I was. But it's been a long time. A long, long time. And now, I know better.

You didn't know; you couldn't know. You've never seen anyone drink Time before, have you? Oh, you knew it would be bad. You knew that it could kill me. You just didn't know that it could do something even worse. You didn't know it could change me, it could show me what you are.

It made me like you.

I'm one hundred and fifty seven years old. A baby still, by your reckoning, I'm sure, but a far cry from the child you found in the basement of a London shop. I'm educated, for one. I know that the 21st century is poor by way of education, but I've earned multiple doctorates now. I still look like I'm nineteen, so it's easy to sit in on classes. I've learned about physics, astronomy, history, calculus, medicine, literature, and art. I've read; I've studied. I've traveled all over the world. It's not the universe, but it's something.

(I sat still long enough to watch my parents die. Mickey was the one who sent me away. Take a long trip, he said, and remember me like this. Don't come to my funeral, he said. And I didn't. I've been running ever since.)

I'm just like you. I run, and trouble finds me. I've stopped no fewer than fifty alien invasions, not to mention a host of human blunders. Sometimes, people come with me. There was a girl, Martha, who stayed with me for a long time. She was brilliant; you would have liked her, I think. I left her in California, with a nice man who would look after her. I wonder if she ever forgave me for that.

You told me to have a fantastic life. I'm not sure if I did or not. I tried. It was for you, mostly; after you left, everything was so pointless and mundane, I didn't care about life at all, never mind making it fantastic. But you wanted me to have a fantastic life, so I tried, for you. And I've done good things, I think. I've saved people, when I could. You're right; those days when everybody lives? They don't come around often enough.

I've watched so many people die. Toby was the first. He was in love with me, and it killed him. He jumped in front of me...I'll never know how he knew...and the round shattered his chest. I fell beside him and pumped three clips into the man who shot him. I left Toby in Tibet; he loved it there. Then, I ran some more. This time, though, I had blood on my hands.

After that, it didn't stop. Somebody always dies, don't they? It's not just trouble that follows me, it's death, too. Everything I touch turns to ashes, in the end. If I don't lead them into mortal danger, Time claims them, all of them. All but me. Me, I get to watch.

Alice and Martin were electrocuted before I could reach the switch. Hans smiled at me before he stepped into the fire. Elias kissed me, just like Jack, then ran off to buy me more time.

Martha died twenty-three years ago, the mother of three and the best doctor in L.A.

At night, I dream of them. I remember all of them, every friend that I've loved, every friend that's loved me, and I remember how they died. I remember everything I've killed: defender of Earth, I am, and I'm bathed in blood. You didn't tell me that defending meant killing.

But there isn't always a choice, is there? The Bad Wolf devours, destroys. Calling it defense is just a matter of syntax. It's a war we fight, and wars and death walk hand in hand. The problem is it doesn't matter what I'm shooting at, at the end of the day, all I know is that I've killed something. Sometimes, I can't even convince myself that I'm on the good side. I used to be so convinced that everything you did was right, but now that I've done it, it's a lot harder to believe that.

Maybe that's why you needed me. You needed someone to tell you that you were doing something right. You told me once that you believed in me; if I could hear you say anything, I would want to hear that. Tell me that I'm on the good side.

I stopped hoping a long time ago. I stopped looking for blue boxes on street corners and I stopped going back to Norway. I wonder, if you could see me now, if you would even want me anymore. I wouldn't fade away, like most humans would, but could you stand to look at me? Stand to see what I've done?

Stand to see yourself in my eyes?

I wish you would come for me. Even if you hated me, even if you couldn't stand to see what I've become, I wish you would come.

At least I know you would understand.


End file.
